Cookie Jars and Biscuit Tins
by night-violet
Summary: "I bet that's why you ran out of divination in third year. Is that what you saw in Trelawney's crystal ball."   Granger retorted sharply. "We were looking at tea leaves that session!" Draco's eyebrows rose apprasingly. "Like hell we were, darling."
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I disclaim!**

**Author's note**: **Set in seventh year. Both HG and DM are head boy and girl, sharing those infamous quarters...**

**Consider the first chapter as a teaser. All the pieces of the jigsaw will come together in my second chapter. Enjoy...**

* * *

><p>"GRANGER! What the hell are you doing?" Draco Malfoy's voice echoed off the walls of their Head's shared common room.<p>

She must have heard him too. The creamy shoulders visible through that sleeveless floaty translucent wrap she called a night dress, tensed. He even heard her sudden sharp intake of breath which was followed by a sound that had been louder than his own shout. CRASH! She toppled to floor, with the biscuit tin, cookie jar, stool she had been standing on five minutes ago and the night dress. Shame - she could have left the night dress.

_Look away Malfoy! For God's sake it's Granger. _He growled internally, and boy, did Granger look mad too. She rose, with as much poise and dignity as she could muster, from a crumpled heap on the floor. It was no wonder she was sorted into Gryffindor. If lionesses had manes, they would have looked similar to Granger's bushy tangle. Yes, he reminded himself 'a _bushy tangle'_. He glanced away briefly to regain his composure and clear his throat.

"Yes, Malfoy, What do you want?"

Despite their unspoken mutual understanding that they had reached, they had never progressed to being on a first name basis. She stooped to analyse shattered glass cookie jar, pulling out a wand from her night dress. _"Reparo!"_

"I thought you were on a diet." He assessed her form through the gown. "Or at least I thought that you should be on a diet." _What a lie. He hated girls who would snap like twigs. But her reaction was worth it._

She stared at him in speechless fury. For once, Granger looked stumped for words. She blinked at him slowly, in disbelief and then quickly as if to dispel any emotion it caused. Her creamy small hands dropped from her hips and onto the side of her thighs. The pretence of vulnerability and fragility ended there. The expression in her eyes was one of rage. Weight was clearly a touchy subject. He could almost see steam coming out of her ears.

He gloated, but knew that she would not remain mute for long. The Brains of the Golden Trio never stopped ticking. He braced himself for the insult she would serve him. Surely the time for childish behaviour between them was long over. (Malfoys as a rule were allowed to have double standards.) She clicked her tongue and tapped her foot. Draco knew the signs were spelling trouble. His breath hitched. His smirk vanished.

"So you caught me. The amazing Draco Malfoy, the Sherlock Holmes of his generation has caught me. Red handed in the act...like a criminal!"

He pinched himself. Was his hearing impaired?

"And you know what Malfoy – I don't care about the diet! I frankly don't care anymore. I only live once, and I'm going to eat what I like and when I like! And I am going to be happy! "She glanced at the grandfather clock. "Even at 2 in the morning, I am going to be happy! Unlike Parkinson, I don't a pageant queen reputation to uphold, unlike Greengrass, I don't even have that kind of long and leggy body to maintain. I GIVE UP THE DIET! I GIVE UP!"

Malfoy was struggling to make sense of what exactly she was saying. He had heard of hemlock, in his herbology lessons, never a sherlock. "Relax Granger; I was only kidding about the diet." He judged from the way she reopened her mouth wide before churning out all her thoughts that Granger was not even close to finishing her tirade. SO he interrupted speedily. "So, you have a weakness for biscuits and cookies."

"Why don't you just say the word _junk_, Malfoy?"

She was not even arguing with him, just accepting it. Truly disturbing. Was she always like this at two in the morning?

"Always had a weakness for _junk_?" He asked, rolling the muggle sound around his mouth, deciding he liked it, whatever it meant.

"I have a sweet tooth that never agreed with vegetables." She added frantically, ringing her hands. "It drove my parents crazy. They simply refused to buy me anything! I come to Hogwarts every year with absolutely no food items in my trunk...well nothing edible anyway."

"So where did you get the biscuits from?"

She bit her lip, muttered and mumbled something into her hand. He was sure he caught the phrase,"doesn't matter."

"I know they are not from the train."

She avoided his gaze studiously.

"Tell me Granger, or I'll confiscate them!"

She rose to her full height, fully riled now. "You can't confiscate biscuits Malfoy! And if you managed to." She shuddered at the thought, " I...I will ...that is an abuse of power."

He applied the trademark smirk that wreaked daily devastation on the Hogwarts' females, "You going to share them then?" He raised an eyebrow.

Her own eyebrows knotted into a frown. Granger clearly had serious issues with her sugar intake. "_Share_?" She almost choked on the word.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. This was unbelievable. He was also a single child, but he knew when to share his biscuits. At least feed the mouldy ones to Crabbe and Goyle – but Granger was ridiculous. "I think you have an addiction, Granger. Hand me the containers. Both of them."

She snarled, actually snarled. "Go to Hell Malfoy."

Perhaps it was because two in the morning, he had a headache, a quidditch practice that had left him bone-weary, he was standing here in the common room arguing something trivial with Granger, he came up with the most ridiculous notion on the spot. So ridiculous, it left Hermione Granger in a stunned silence for the second time. "You know what Granger; I bet ten galleons this has something to do with Weasley."

She jumped.

"Weasley is one giving you your daily fix of sugar. You know why? Sugar is seemingly harmless but it acts long term...like mercury poisoning. He wants you put on weight, get black holes in your teeth..."

"Dental caries." She corrected spontaneously.

He continued, ignoring her, "Weasley wants you to be sick, to destroy your self esteem, he wants you to feel ugly and worthless, and at the end of all that - marry you, and land you with seven weasel babies. His plan will take about fifty years to implement but trust me; it's the only way he can get a girl."

The look on Granger's face was _priceless_.

* * *

><p><em><strong>What do you think? Please review...positive feedback and constructive criticism are much appreciated <strong>_


	2. Looking at Tea Leaves

**Author's note:**

** Okay, I lied; there are going to be three chapters now. (laughs)**

**Also, I wanted to say a huge thank you for all my reviews. The response I got from 'readers' was positive and really encouraging. So thanks again...and please keep the reviews coming. **

* * *

><p>"So..." Malfoy's voice trailed off. "Are you going to hex me Granger?" What's it going to be: Jelly-legs? Levicorpus? "He left a pause for theatrical effect. "<em>Oppugno?<em>" That smirk was back on his face. "Oh wait, you use that spell specifically for your groom to be. His kink, I understand?"

She hissed.

Draco stroked his chin thoughtfully, painful memories from third year returning to him. "Perhaps...you might forsake spells altogether and use violence instead. He studied her taut-as-wire form. "Yes, I think a fist to the face, is more your style."

"You would know, wouldn't you Malfoy?" She folded her arms across her chest, eyes glinting with cool satisfaction as she relived the same moment in her mind.

But his cunning matched her intelligence. The Draco Malfoy she had a good mind to punch, was now four years older, harder, and could slam witty remarks without blinking. "Of your uncultured primitive Neanderthal methods; yes, unfortunately I would know."

Hermione flinched and that surprised him. He said. "What's the matter with you, Granger? Normally you're always ready for an intense verbal sparring with your fellow Head. Why so passive tonight?"

A bemused Draco, watched Granger's teeth clamp down on her lower lip to bite and chew it - a nervous habit of hers, utilised most frequently in exam season. She exhaled deeply, but the breath out was ragged and laboured. She avoided his gaze. Strangely tonight, Granger looked vulnerable_. Don't be stupid. You wait till she strikes Malfoy. She will go straight for your jugular._ He decided to rub a little more salt into her opening wounds whilst Granger maintained this pathetic mind frame. "I bet that's why you ran out of divination in third year. Is that what you saw in Trelawney's crystal ball - An ugly, toothless, and blown up version of yourself, run ragged trying to feed your eight children? Sorry, I forgot, I meant your seven children plus husband."

She retorted sharply. "We were looking at tea leaves that session!"

Draco's eyebrows rose appraisingly. "Like hell we were, darling."

Only then he realised the full implications of what he had said.

"I'm not your darling!" She stated in a voice edged with cold fury. Draco thought to himself _His sentiments exactly_. The word 'darling' had been a slip of the tongue, a school-boy error – thoughtless and not to be repeated. Ever. He would not crucify himself over the mistake as there was nothing to analyse, or improper thought to correct. And enough was said on the matter. He thought back to the divination incident, and laughed out loud, with his head thrown back, and hand cupping his forehead. She frowned at this sudden onset of madness in her fellow Head.

"_You are insensitive to the Inner eye." Professor Trelawney drawled as she returned Potter's crystal ball to him."You need to open your mind Miss Granger, to all possibilities, all outcomes and all realities." Trelawney raised her bony wrists skywards, the bangles and glittering charms tinkling. She raised her voice. "The future itself is dynamic. We see a glimpse of a possible future in a crystal ball but your prejudice blinds you to even such a glimpse. You must cast aside your doubts, and learn to trust. Trust before you fully understand Miss Granger." Trelawney drifted over towards an excitable Lavender Brown, completely unaware of Granger's thunderous expression at having been so publically put down. _

_Draco really did not care. The bint needed a verbal putting down. Watching her being chided by the brain dead Professor Trelawney was a classic form of entertainment. _

_She caught him sneering from the table across her. "What do you want Malfoy?" She spat. "You look rather pleased with yourself. Why, have you seen the Grim in your crystal ball too?"_

_The stuck up prude. He swore. "At least I make an effort in divination, unlike you Granger. You've disrupted the class on more than one occasion now, and even tried to undermine a professor. That's not how a model student behaves, darling." _

_Score. Her shocked expression confirmed his victory. Granger had no comeback. He so badly wanted to punch the air above with a fist .He settled for a smirk- a smirk so wide he might as well have been smiling at her. Granger's weakness to be teacher's pet was so apparent, it was disgusting. He watched her borrow Neville's crystal ball, brusquely claiming that there was some fault with her own. He felt like shaking his head at her. It was not possible to compare a crystal ball to some faulty muggle appliance._

_That was when Blaise nudged him, asking him about next friendly match with Ravenclaw. Granger was forgotten for the next two whole minutes. That was until she slammed her books down and announced she was leaving the class. Draco was stunned so was everyone else. Granger's announcement was met with a pin drop silence, broken by an overly dramatic gasp by Parvati Patil. Did the prissy nerdy Mudblood just walk out of a timetabled lesson? Oh yes, she did. Hot damn! Malfoy thought as he absently watched those hips sashay towards the trapdoor._

_It was only when he found glass shards in a rarely used stairwell of the astronomy tower that he connected the dots, realising the cause of Granger's erratic behaviour. The shards were the remains of Neville's crystal ball. In those two minutes of silence in the divination lesson after he realised perhaps Granger __**had**__ seen something in the crystal ball. Something she truly had not liked or wanted to see, that would have prompted her outburst...like...like Weasley procreating. Malfoy shuddered. Heaven forbid. Some people were born ugly, with disgusting table manners, and sickening social etiquette, but as far as he was concerned, Weasley's ugliness was so potent that it could be inherited. No wonder Granger was upset thinking about the future. Draco was not one to sympathise but ...__**bless **__**those poor children.**_

* * *

><p>DM has another theory. The next chapter, I promise you will find out exactly what Hermione saw in the crystal ball...and it will surprise you. Please review, much love,<p>

night-violet


	3. Dreaming out loud

**Author's note: **

**So sorry for the delay in updating guys. Thank so much for the kind reviews, subscribing and favouriting. I'm not going to even bother about telling you the number of chapters i plan to write - won't be that many though. Please keep the reviews coming. I love to hear what you think.**

* * *

><p>"Are you cold Granger?"<p>

"What?" She snapped.

"You just shivered." He explained.

He laid a hand on the creamy expanse of skin of her shoulder, and realised instantly how that was a mistake. He could feeling how truly calloused the pads of his own fingers were by the way the roughened ridges scraped her petal soft skin. Abruptly he removed it, realising that he had also been leaning forwards. "You're showing classic withdrawal symptoms Granger. Yes, I'm keeping these." He said tersely, picking up the cookie jar, something, anything to occupy his wondering hands, not realised the number of times he had repeated the same statement.

"For you to eat by yourself?" Granger snarled.

Draco shook his head. The blasted girl was so fixated on her sugar dose, she had barely registered the unacceptable bodily reaction he had "I would share." He said stressing the word. "But sharing is caring. So it's something I don't do."

Hermione responded sharply, immediately reminding him why she was the 'cleverest witch of their generation. "But the great Draco Malfoy cares enough about the lowly muggleborn Hermione's Granger's health, so much so that he is willing to confiscate the very substance that is wrecking her life and derailing her future."

"As Head boy, Granger I have a moral responsibility to every student in the school. Unfortunately that includes you too."

"Thank you for the clarification." She said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Draco sneered in response. "Please don't thank me, Granger - We may end up becoming friends."

She scoffed. "Friends, never! You can count on it Malfoy. I don't like spending time with arrogant spoilt brats who refer to their father in every other sentence."

"How much time do you like to spend with said people?" Draco glanced at the Grandfather clock next to the fireplace. "Say fifteen minutes? I could talk for another ten minutes with you but would I be pushing my luck?"

"Oh my God Malfoy. Give me a rest. It's two twenty in the morning."

His eyes were a cold slate grey, his voice equally hard as he challenged her, dared her. "Then go to bed, Granger. If you are so tired, and so bored of talking to me, just go."

She shivered again. Not because of the cold, not because of his proximity, not because of how electrically charged the space around them was but the chilling cutting tone of his voice. It was a tone that was haggard by the day's events, and frustrated with political back-chatting and wordplay he exchanged with his housemates. He just wanted to talk...to her.

Despite her protesting muscles and aching limbs, she stood rooted to the ground.

He drawled. "Aren't you going to leave?"

She hesitated.

He made the decision for her. "Well goodnight Granger. Sweet dreams." He turned his back on her and briskly walked out of the shared common room.

"Wait..." She croaked after him but the word got caught in her throat barely came out louder than a whisper. "Don't go...yet." She said in time with the snick of a door closing. His door. She sighed. Her arms dropped to her side. Well that was not quite the reaction she had been expecting from Draco Malfoy or quite what she had been hoping for. Or was longing for the right word. Damn! Why did he always walk away? And without a backward glance, with the confident gait, the long ground eating strides of someone accomplished. She sighed forlornly. Those strides were not made to accommodate the slower walk of another. Was it a sign? Was she always meant to walk in his shadow? Unnoticed and never be able to match his stride. Never good enough for Draco Malfoy. Not pure enough for him. Blood was a stupid and outdated notion! She shook her head to dispel those traitorous thoughts. Hell would freeze over before she thought herself as less than him using blood purity as a standard. He never mentioned bloodlines in front of her, substituting the word muggleborn in place of mudblood, a stark contrast to third year Draco. The tiny candle flame of hope flickered again and again, threatening to go out for certain with each passing day. Piece by piece her optimism was crumbling. She was starting to lose a little faith in her crystal ball prediction. So hopeless she might as well have dreamt the whole scenario. She thought back to that eventful day in third year falling back onto the couch, landing rather ungracefully.

_"Trust in something I don't understand? Hermione thought to herself. How is that is even possible? It's not even scientific! As if divination had anything to do with science. She signed deeply and glanced into the crystal ball Neville had so graciously passed to her. Junk! This was worthy of being called junk. More junk than junk food. Even her parents (who developed aneurysms at the mention of sugar) would agree. She shook the ball. To be perfectly honest, the closest thing it resembled was a snow globe. So she followed her instincts and shook it again._

_"Hermione, what on Earth are you doing? Careful!" Lavender protested before taking the snow globe from her, cradling it in the crook of her arm. "You might break it."_

_Hermione snorted. "Give me a break."_

_Lavender handed it back to with motherly concern for the snow globe. "Just hold it still for a minute."_

_Hermione glanced at it. She must have caused a small crack somewhere when she shook the crystal ball. There was condensation on the inside, fogging the snow globe...at an alarming and truly unnatural rate. That wasn't condensation. "Lav..." Her voice shook. "What's have you done?"_

_Lavender glanced and nodded. "Oh, it's working."_

_"This is how it works?"Hermione's hands that held the globe were trembling visibly. This had never happened before. Well...she had never managed to get a reading before._

_"Just relax."_

_Easier said than done. She stared, her eyes widening, breath hitching in anticipation, hands suddenly clammy, and face pale. Granger, get a grip on yourself! She scolded herself. She watched. The experience she had similar to this was looking in a penseive with Harry. She stared in wonder at a reflection of herself - an older version of herself, smiling. Older by only a few years. Where she was she could not tell – looked like it someone's drawing room, dimly lit by a crackling roaring fireplace. Her hair was tamer, falling in soft waves down her shoulders. Her eyes were shining, like there were gold flecks glimmering through the brown spokes of her iris. Her older reflection looked content. Her features looked sharper. She had put on a little weight, but curves that made that... the thirteen year old gasped...that rather see-through virginal night dress cling like ivy over her. When would she start wearing sexy bed wear like that, she mused. Her current wear, the ill fitting tank top and frayed shorts came into mind and she groaned. Her current wardrobe needed updating. Her older reflection smiled and put her finger to her lips, eyes sparkling with mischief. Watch..._

_Hermione watched in absolute shock as to what happened._

_An older shirtless Draco Malfoy appeared in the doorway, the firelight throwing shadows into the grooves in his muscled abdomen. She watched, mouth dry, as he stalked across the drawing room - a liquid shift of corded tendons, and veined muscle. His movements were brisk, economical and quintessentially male and the raw masculine heat he exuded throwing a wave around him everywhere he looked. The older Hermione looked ready to faint, pupils dilated, breath stuttering. Everything about him screamed sex._

* * *

><p><em><strong>Lissie - <strong>_

_**Fast asleep where I keep my memories, he's calling me out in dreams, he visits me. **_

_**And when the story ends, the one that's in my head...I'll be alone again**_


	4. Clinically Insane

**A/N: My dear reviewers and readers, sorry about the inexplicable and inexcusable delay in updating. This scene (written late at night,) is very random, reflecting my lack of sleep as well as Hermione's. Because i haven't written for this fic in quite a while, i am using this scene as a warm-up to get back into the story. It's a little different from the other chapters, most of which had flashbacks. Please have patience. I promise I'll make it upto you guys next time, although i would like to hear what you make of this effort. Thanks NV**

* * *

><p><strong>Hermione's bedroom: Early morning<strong>

Hermione tossed and turned in bed, trying to get comfortable. Something however, was not right. She could not decide whether it was the temperature of the room, the hardness of the mattress or the plushness of the duvet or all of the above. Something was just wrong. It definitely **wasn't** the way that egotistical brat, Draco Malfoy had brushed her aside so rudely, one hour ago before storming to his own bedroom. She would without hesitation, bet ten boxes of anzac biscuits that he was sound asleep in his bed. "You're such an idiot, Granger." She checked her watch. It was three thirty in the morning and she was still awake, losing sleep over Draco **sodding** Malfoy. Blast it! She never felt so pathetic in her life. She had tried counting sheep, but she knew if she focused all her attention on counting sheep, she would end up dreaming of them, which was equally pathetic. She yawned and stretched her arms.

_ "I wonder what Malfoy's wearing in bed?"_

OH heck! Hermione sprang upright. Where the hell had that thought come from?

_ "No, really, what do you think he's wearing in bed?" _

Hermione felt like she was going mad. She was now talking to herself, or rather a sexually starved aspect of her personality she did not want to associate with.

"Green and silver." The rational and still awake part of her answered, hoping that she had dreamt the question being asked. However the question sounded too real. She pinched herself.

_"Oh, I'm still here."_ The voice spoke. _"Were you hoping your inner siren would go to sleep while you were pining for lover boy?"_

"I am going mad." Hermione said, with dawning realisation.

The voice yawned. "_Green and silver. That seems logical. But those are colours and not clothes. What about cotton pyjamas?"_

Hermione pursed her lip, the issue morphing into an intellectual dilemma. "Probably not cotton. The dress robes I've seen him wear high-quality expensive stuff and not what you would find in Gladrags." She added as an afterthought. "Or Marks and Spencer."

Her inner vixen squealed in lecherous excitement. _"So are we thinking silk? Or maybe satin – something that slips off easily"_

Hermione tried get a strangle hold on this alternate personality. "You're not going to be slipping off anything, you hussy! Just leave me in peace, will you?"

_"Why do I get the feeling?_" The vamp grinned, _"...He sleeps shirtless."_

Hermione's mouth dried instantly at the mental image.

_"You're drooling!"_ her other giggled maliciously.

"No, I'm not!" Hermione closed her mouth, checking the sides for any trace of saliva with her finger. "See, I'm not."

Her other continued to chuckle sadistically. "_Doesn't he seem like the type who sleep shirtless?"_

"What **type** exactly?"

_"A jock if you want to use muggle term or the bad boy loner on the road to ruin. That phrase is so much hotter!"_ Her imaginary evil twin replied, carelessly stretching her own limbs. Hermione jolted to full wakefulness. At what point did this 'other' gain a physical body. _She_ was sitting next to her, under the covers of their shared duvet, in the same nightgown, clutching the same book. Bridget Jones diary: the Edge of Reason. "I must be so tired." Hermione muttered.

_"Me too. It's exhausting to watch you two tiptoe around each other. You should just make a move on him!"_ The other had hit a nerve.

"I don't tiptoe around anybody!" Hermione hissed. "And anyway, he'd run a mile if I jumped him."

"_Fine. You're so boring Granger."_ Her other wrapped a stray ringlet around her finger, teasingly.

"Shut up."

_"A catch like him."_ Her other reminded.

"He is nothing special."

_ "What a hot bod!"_

"You haven't even seen it."

_"Under **that** shirt!"_ _She_ started fanned herself hysterically,

"Which house elves iron for him." Hermione completed.

Her other sighed. "T_hat bad boy attitude! He's a solid statue of ice that you just want to thaw." She_ settled under the cover, pulling them up to her chin. _"Hhhmmmm...Lo lo lo lo yum yum yum!."_

"I'm not going to even ask what that was. I think you should go to sleep." Hermione put her book on the bedside table.

"_That's not even the best bit." _

Somehow, Hermione knew her dear friend was not finished with the gushing.

"Tell me more!" Hermione gasped theatrically, having had enough of this conversation.

"_Just picture..."_ Her reflection waved her hand in slow motion in front of them_. "His abs."_

"Yes."

"_Those strong rock hard thighs."_

"Yes." Hermione nodded.

"_That aristocratic face!"_

Hermione's eyebrows rose in appreciation, her breath held in contemplation of its haughty beauty.

"_And all that money!"_ Her other smacked her lips together, elbowing her in the ribs before falling about the bed and guffawing in hysterics.

Hermione shook her head at the anticlimactic statement. "You are shameless!"

Her other turned over onto her front, joke forgotten and now changing the subject. _"Actually I think I know what he wears in bed."_

"Please don't say nada," snapped Hermione, expecting no better from her crude other half.

Her reflection pursed her lips, and scratched her chin thoughtfully. _"I think he wears silk boxers in bed - snug silk boxers ... Blood red boxers."_

Hermione nearly fell off the bed at the image, imagining the sheer contrast between Draco's ivory skin (pale, stark, cold like the moon,) and the deep bold blood red material riding low on his hips that spoke of sizzling, scorching, passion drenched nights. "Oh yes." Hermione said rather breathlessly to herself. "Yes."

"_Damn_," Said her other, licking her lips at the same mental image.

Both were silent for minutes lost in the vision.

The suggestive Draco Malfoy that was currently revolving on the spot for them, exhibiting his deep red boxers, gave them both a wink.

Her other finally spoke, pointing at the exhibit. "**_That boy...is a fine piece of ass."_**

Hermione was convinced she was clinically insane. There were now two other people beside her in this room.

_"Do we have any popcorn?"_ Her other asked, petulantly.

"Why?" asked Hermione sharply.

The other pointed at the poser in front of them. "_I'm going to try and convince **him** to do a strip-tease."_

"Not much stripping involved, is there?" Hermione said pointedly, gaze fixed on his only article of clothing.

Malfoy gave a wolfish grin, before letting his fingers play with along the band of his boxers.

Her expressions were strained as she tried not to show how much his teasing was affecting her composure. She sputtered. "Besides, he's looked better."

"_Nah_." Her other said chomping on popcorn that had materialised from nowhere. _"No, this is Malfoy at his __**prime**__."_ Her imaginary evil twin sighed.

"No I saw him in a crystal ball once."

Her other half sat up. "_When_?

Hermione hesitated, "Well..."

Her other tugged with over boiling enthusiasm on Hermione's arm. _"Tell me please! I promise I won't tell anyone."_

"Okay. Okay." Hermione shrugged _her_ off. "It happened a few years ago."

_"SPILL all the details!"_ Her other ordered.

Hermione obliged, starting from the top.

Meanwhile the Malfoy, who might as well have been modelling Calvin Klein underwear, sat cross-legged on the floor to listen with piquing interest.

"Umm where do I start_...?"_

_"Oooooh, I knew this would come in handy."_ The evil twin made herself comfortable against the pillows, holding her popcorn bag tightly to her bosom.

"Are you going to share that?" Hermione asked hopefully.

"_Never."_

Hermione huffed. Well at least she could tell they were related.

* * *

><p><strong>Hope you enjoyed. <strong>

** P.S.: thank you for all the kind reviews. ...This fic is not yet over!**


End file.
